


and the stars kept their vigil

by what_on_io



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Memories, Sleeping Together, There's basically no plot here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 06:32:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6843106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_on_io/pseuds/what_on_io
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's times like this, lying out here contemplating the stars, thinking of days gone by, when Nick feels like a fraud.</p><p>Nick doubts himself, and Hancock worries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and the stars kept their vigil

On nights like this, when the moon's full and the stars are out in force, Nick can almost pretend it's the old days again. He reclines on his back in one of Sanctuary's backyards, hidden from sight by a conveniently placed barbecue grill and a row of intact fencing, his head propped up on a stack of cushions, and pretends the world hasn't gone to shit.

It's times like this that he feels like a fraud; lying out here contemplating the stars, contemplating days gone by, days that he has no right to remember. He thinks of Nora, asleep upstairs, who lived that world and its fears and wars and normalcy, whose body holds muscle memories of a time long ago. He thinks of all the pre-war ghouls who have an intimate knowledge of pristine Mr. Handys and flushing toilets and clean water that spurted from faucets, and he feels like a fake.

Sure, he _has_ those memories. Knows what it's like to drive a car and wear clean clothes and not have to fight mutated bugs each time so much as stepping out of populated areas. But they aren't _his,_ and that's what really matters. They belong to someone else, to that first Nick Valentine, and who the hell is he to pretend to be something he's not?

"Nicky?" John's voice from behind him startles Nick into a sitting position, amber eyes widening to alertness. Hancock is standing in the back doorway of the nearest house, only wearing his loose cotton shirt and dark slacks, coat and hat nowhere in sight. Nick watches him rub his eyes blearily, taking a groggy step towards his lover.

"What're you doing out here, John? I thought you were sleeping," Nick says, and damn if it doesn't sound like a chastisement. The ghoul stumbles the remaining distance and nuzzles his way into his boyfriend's arms, lifting Nick's left hand where it rests on his knee and tucking it around his shoulders, burying his face into the crook of his neck, where prosthetic skin makes way for metal and wiring.

"Couldn't sleep without you," John murmurs, "Come back to bed."

Nick ignores this plea, instead choosing to trace Hancock's jawline with his free hand. He freezes as soon as he realises it's his right hand, the dominant one, and curses his failed attempts at ambidexterity.

"Hey," John says when he sees Nick's gaze shift from his hand to John's cheek. Hancock lifts the metal hand and places it right where Nick intended for it to be, over his lover's cheek.

"Nicky, we've been over this," he continues, "You said you'd wake me next time."

"It's fine, love. It's nothing."

"It's something," John replies, "It's botherin' you, so it's something."

Nick takes in a sharp, unnecessary breath and can only bring himself to say, "I love you."

"I know," Hancock says, "I love you too." It's more of a sigh, and silence falls between them for a few moments before he pipes back up, "This is real, ya know. All of it. Doesn't matter if you didn't experience those things in this body, or whatever. S'all valid, Nick. If it's what you feel, then it all counts."

"It's all just a facade, John. I'm just an old bot pretending to be a person. A dead person, at that."

"You're not _pretendin_ ' anything, love. You're Nick Valentine. Doesn't matter that there've been people before you with that same name. Heh, look at me," Hancock chuckles, gesturing to himself. Nick sniffs, turning his face into Hancock's neck so that they're snuggled together, symmetrical, "You're not him, Nick. You're you. He ain't the one traipsing 'round the Commonwealth after me an' Nora. He ain't the one with his own detective agency set up post-apocalypse. An' he ain't the one who's overcome years of prejudice in Diamond fucking City to make people trust him, is he?" Hancock sighs again, relaxing a little after his tirade, "This is all you, Nick. Sure, you might have another guy's memories floatin' around in your head with your own, but this is your life. You have your own memories, too."

"Sometimes I just wish they were _human_ memories."

Hancock bristles at this, squeezing Nick to him a little tighter, "Humanity's overrated, if ya ask me," he mutters bitterly, "You've seen all the shit humans have done, the shit they're still doin'. You're doin' a damn sight more for the world than most of the folks out there."

Nick's sniffle isn't so pronounced, this time, and when Hancock presses a line of kisses up his jaw and to his ruined cheek, he doesn't stop him.

"Thanks, love," he mumbles. Hancock grips his chin in one hand and pulls him down for a gentle kiss on the lips.

"Coming back to bed?"

"Stay and watch the stars with me," Nick says. Hancock lies down beside him in silent agreement, pillowing one arm behind his head and squeezing Nick's knee with the other.

"I'm glad you're here, John," Nick says after a while, when he isn't sure if his partner has succumbed to slumber or not. John wordlessly snuggles closer to him with a contented sound, allowing Nick to draw one arm protectively around the smaller man's body.

"M'glad you're here too, Nicky. This place wouldn't be the same without you." And maybe it's true. Maybe he does have a purpose out here in this blasted Commonwealth. Maybe it doesn't even matter whether he lives up to old Nick's memory or not, because he has this man in his arms and he doesn't ever have to let go, and ain't that worth the whole damn world?

When Hancock falls asleep on the grass, Nick presses a single, soft kiss to his forehead and tugs himself so they're wrapped around each other again. Then there's nothing but the sound of their shared breaths and the far-off hum of a bloatfly somewhere south as the stars keep their vigil above them.

**Author's Note:**

> Nick does sleep in canon, by the way. Which I think is adorable. They're both just so small and I just can't.


End file.
